


A little miscommunication never hurt, right?

by serenitysolstice



Category: Firebringer - Team StarKid
Genre: Enemies to Friends, F/F, Highschool AU, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysolstice/pseuds/serenitysolstice
Summary: Same old high school AU. What is it about teenagers and blowing things out of proportion? No one is better at that than Jemilla.





	1. A Little Mishap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end of the chapter for French translations

She's always late. Jemilla knows that the musician was always late. So why does it keep surprising her to see Zazz walk into class ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty minutes late without any kind of excuse? She just accepts her detention slip with a smirk, and swaggers to the back of the classroom and leans back on her chair like she has no intention of doing any work. Which, of course, she doesn't. Just writes in that little red notebook of hers all day, and occasionally mutters to Keeri, the only one in their sixth form who can really put up with her bullshit. Jemilla thinks. Jemilla hopes. She hopes that the rest of her tutor group aren't as likely to get swept away by the budding musician's antics as old classmates and friends would have been two or three years ago. Everyone has to grow up eventually. She glances to the front of the classroom just as Zazzalil saunters past her desk, offering her a lazy wink that brings out her easy flush. Well. Almost everyone.  
  
Jemilla has a rule. She actually has several very specific sets of rules that govern her behaviours depending on things like time of day, season, her current peer group and how far along her menstrual cycle she is. But she has one rule that she has followed for five years running now, and she'll stick to it until the class nuisance leaves or they graduate. She is allowed five minutes daily to mentally chastise Eliza 'Zazzalil' Pullen in whatever way she deems necessary, and to lament at her wasted potential. And then she goes on with her classes. She prefers not to think about the guitarist at all when possible, but that isn't always an option.

"- and I know you don't like her, Milla, but Zazz's new piece is perfectly in sync with the dance number and I know she'll help if you ask her-"

"Absolutely not Seb. It's an assessed production, you're not supposed to have sixth formers in it at all. Ask some of your own music students." She reaches the foot or so above her head to ruffle her brother's hair. "Besides, I can't ask her. Do you have any idea what she'd say?" SB raises an eyebrow in her direction. "No, come on, you know exactly what she'd say. She's not exactly subtle in her dislike of me."

"What, like you are?" Jemilla breaks eye contact and shrugs, cheeks warm.

"It's not that I don't like her. I just...you know what, forget this. I'll see you tonight. Stay away from Grant!" He rolls his eyes when she turns back down the corridor, towards her science classroom. She was aiding a year eight chemistry lesson, and had promised Mrs DiCrats she'd have everything already set up. Given how the average thirteen year old responds to being told they're going to burn metal, she could guarentee a busy hour.

 

  
"Hey, Milla, a few of us are going out Friday night - Ducker's finally got some ID, and he's home alone for the weekend so we're going to celebrate at that new live music place up on the waterfront, you in?" Tib's hangs on the doorframe of the laboratory, ignoring Mr Hidgens' questioning glance. To be fair, she's only in there because the library is packed with her brother and his friends, 'studying' for their GCSE's.

"What time, Molag works weekends so I'll need to be back by midnight."

"That's cool, we're leaving Schwoops' around eight? Of course, if you want you can join us for pre's, but you do prefer meeting us out."

"Yeah, I'll meet you at the Lounge - Seb's on some new meds, they're still settling in. He tends to conk out completely by seven though." Tiblyn frowns, tilting her head.

"Is that...normal for a sixteen year old boy?" Jemilla shrugs in response.

"I don't know Tibs. It's his ADHD meds, it does weird brain chemistry stuff." Mr Hidgens makes a scoff in the back of his throat; Tiblyn's eyes widen. She mumbles a quick "well, anyway, see you later Jemilla!" And scarpers.

"Are you always so casual when you discuss your brother's medical information?" The elderly man asked, a note of disapproval in his voice. He had his back to her, cleaning the white board, but she could imagine the set of his jaw, and the infamous eyebrow raise.

"Not where it matters, Sir. You've taught him, Tibs comes over weekly - she's pretty close to Sebastian actually. And I know Seb doesn't mind talking about it."

"Hmm." The teacher replies noncommittally. "Even so, sometimes caution is necessary, Jemilla. You should remember that." The brunette nods slowly. The old man was often full of bizarre life tips like that, though he rarely bothered warning her. She was a world-class worrier, top of her class. If they gave marks for such a thing. If Mr Hidgens is telling her not to worry, he obviously doesn't know her as well as she thought.

 

  
It's not uncommon for a level classes to be tiny, sometimes only three or four people big. She had to work hard to even convince Madame Gonagelle, the only French teacher in such a tiny school, to even run the class for three of them, but Jemilla can be...very persuasive. She had to be, considering the only other classmates were Emberly, who was only in the class because she wanted to attend a French culinary school and thought it would be handy, and...

"Eliza, tu es encore en retard." She admonished the girl who, true to the only other consistancy Jemilla had seen her possess, had an acoustic guitar slung across her back.

"Sorry, Madame." Zazz began, shrugging carelessly. "I have a show this weekend and-" Gonagelle held up a hand, silencing the musician.

"En Français." She said simply, hand waved in front of her. Jemilla smirked at Zazzalil's sigh, before she stuttered out her excuse.

"Pardon, Madame. J'ai une performance ce week-end et j'avais besoin de plus de temps de répétition. Cela n'arrivera plus."

"Bien." Gonagelle nodded, not a word of praise or punishment uttered. "Continuons. Qui peut me dire..." And so class went on, Jemilla semi distracted. Zaz had a show this weekend? Would she be at Live Lounge on Friday? Did her friends know? Is that why she was bein dragged out? They always found it funny when she and Eliza locked horns, did they just want to cause a scene? Perhaps she should just-

"Jemilla!" Gonagelle barks, jolting the brunette's head up quickly. "Es tu avec nous?"

"Oui, Madame, mes excuses. J'étais... perdu dans mes pensées." She hears Zazzalil snicker at the back of the class and feels her face flush. Gonagelle looked between them for a moment.

"Honnêtement." Their teacher mutters. "Les devoirs sur le tableau, nous avons terminé ici. Emberly, si tu veux rester et apprendre, tu le pouvais." Jemilla waits the few seconds it takes for Eliza to properly translate the sentence - she is privately convinced that the girl never bothered to learn how to conjugate verbs properly, and forms her own sentences through trial and error, before standing from her seat with her bag in hand.

"Je suis désolé, Madame. She mutters, rushing from the classroom with her face burning. She leans against the wall in the empty courtyard and slides down to sit on the tarmac, head in hands. She will not cry, she decides. She is glad of the decision a second later, when Eliza leaves the classroom too, a grin on her face.

"Holy shit Jemilla, I can't believe you got us out of class that early. We were only there for ten minutes."

"Twenty." Jemilla murmers, lifting her head wearily. "I was there for twenty. You arrived ten minutes late." Zazz frowns for a second, before grinning again.

"That was some team work!" She exclaims. "Wonder why she let us go so easily?"

"Because." Jemilla starts, scowl on Zazzalil. "She has made it perfectly clear that she has no intention of teaching people who don't want to learn. She doesn't want us in her class right now." She took a deep breath, trying to stretch the tightness spreading in her chest. "In fact, given how hard I had to work to convince her to run this class at all, there's a fairly good chance she won't want me there at all now." Despite her best efforts, Jemilla's voice wavered on the last word. Eliza looked at her properly.

"Oh my god. You're really cut up about this aren't you?" She almost laughs, so Jemilla shoots her the darkest look she can manage with her eyes on the brink of tears. Zazzalil blinks. "What?" The taller girl takes a deep breath.

"Nothing at all." She replies with all the bitterness she feels. "Now best run along before someone else swipes the decent practice room." She's seething, she knows, and she's being unnecessarily hostile but she can't believe the nerve of this girl. To just laugh like nothing is wrong, and to laugh again at Jemilla being basically in tears. Zazzalil tilted her head for a second.

"Jemilla, jeez. I'm sorry if I said something. Just...it's only a class, yeah? It doesn't need to run your life."

"Right, because music doesn't run yours." She snaps. Eliza's eyes lose their spark, her mouth opens to speak, but Jemilla has already bounced up from the floor and is striding away as fast as she can whilst retaining some degree of dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eliza, tu es encore en retard: Eliza, you're late again  
> En Français: in French  
> Pardon, Madame. J'ai une performance ce week-end et j'avais besoin de plus de temps de répétition. Cela n'arrivera plus: Sorry, Madam. I have a performance this weekend, and I needed more rehersal time. It won't happen again.  
> Bien: good  
> Es tu avec nous: are you with us?  
> Oui, Madame, mes excuses. J'étais... perdu dans mes pensées: Yes Madam, my apologies. I was...lost in my thoughts.  
> Honnêtement: Honestly  
> Les devoirs sur le tableau, nous avons terminé ici. Emberly, si tu veux rester et apprendre, tu le pouvais: The homework is on the board, we're finished here. Emberly, if you want to stay and learn, you can.  
> Je suis désolé, Madame: I'm sorry, Madam.
> 
> I probably will write another chapter in a French lesson, so there's a good chance I'll need to do this again. AFAIK it's pretty common in A Level language classes for teachers to expect you to speak only in that language for the duration of the class.


	2. Lapse of concentration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Jemilla stops concentrating on ignoring Zazzalil for five minutes?

Jemilla barely even looks at Zazz over the next two days, let alone talk to her. Her anger dies down by the time she gets home on the Wednesday evening, whilst helping Seb run through some Algebra formulae. He didn't have the strongest memory, but he always concentrated harder with Jemilla running drills with him. By the time she was in bed, she had come to the conclusion that Eliza was just a shit head, that it wasn't her responsibility to teach her how to empathize with her peers, and if the musician ever apologised, she'd probably forgive her.  
  
Zazz didn't apologise, and so Jemilla ignored her. It was a simple arrangement that worked, for the most part. Thursday lunchtime, the brunette finds herself put to the test. Zazzalil just does not stop glancing at her, then returning to writing in that infuriating notebook she had. Her anxiety kicks itself up a notch: she pats her hair down, checks her makeup in a pocket sized mirror, even excuses herself to make sure there's nothing stuck in her teeth. There's nothing, no reason why the nuisance would be watching her. And yet, she does. She mentions it to Schwoops, Tibs and her partner, who only answers to Chorn and has no pronoun preference.

"Any of you know why Little Miss Music keeps staring over here?" Schwoopsie raises an eyebrow, Tiblyn only frowns. Chorn seems to ignore her completely - that's okay, as far as Jemilla is concerned. Chorn is...kinda weird.

"I'd heard a rumour..." Schwoops begins, smirking at her friend. Jemilla misses the playful twinkle in her eye.

"What rumour?" Jemilla asks eagerly.

"...that someone gave her a right bollocking after class yesterday." Schwoops winks conspiratorially, and Jemilla rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious Schwoops! All I want is for that second rate musician to leave me alone. She keeps looking over here and writing something in that odious notebook of hers."

"Maybe she's planning her latest revenge." Tiblyn laughs. Jemilla ignores the attempted joke.

"See, that's exactly what I thought, but then I realised that there's literally nothing she can do. We didn't fight yesterday. We hardly talked. She can't be any angrier with me than usual, so what does she want?"

"Well...why don't you go and ask her?" Schwoops suggests with a half smile. Jemilla feels the tips of her ears warm, and prays it doesn't spread further across her face.

"I can't do that!" She hisses instead. "I'm ignoring her!" That earns her another frown.

"...by watching her every move?"

"...Yes." All three of her friends look at her. They wait a beat. "What?"

"J..." Schwoopsie starts, a laugh in her voice. "That's a little weird, even for you." Jemilla scowls.

"She started it!" She replies, more defensive than she'd like. "I'm just...looking at her looking at me." Tiblyn shakes her head slowly, and takes a sip from her waterbottle.

"Jem, she's really not so bad. You're actually a lot like her." Jemilla's mouth falls open.

"What? Tibs, I love you, but how in hell are we anything alike?" Tiblyn hesitates and glances at Schwoopsie. The blonde, ever lacking a filter, continues for her.

"You're both intense, you both have a deep love of very few things and no patience for anything outside of those things. You're both afraid almost all of the time. Both stubborn, both assume you're right about everything- "

"Okay, okay, jeez." The blonde raises one eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure? I can keep going."

"Fuck, no, I get it." There's a lull in the conversation while Jemilla tries to parse this new information. "Shit, ignoring for the moment that you seem to think us both self-obsessed and kind of rude, that's a hell of a character profile on Zazz. I didn't know you knew her that well."

"I don't." Schwoops shrugs. "But Keeri does, and we've had drama together for years." She throws Jemilla a wink. "Apparently, 'Little Miss Music' complains about you as much as you do her." Jemilla looks away, feels her cheeks heat. Zazz must spend a lot of time thinking about her, to complain about her that much. She shoots a dirty look at Schwoopsie, who wears a shit-eating grin.

"What?" Tiblyn asks, glancing between them. "What's so funny Schwoops? We already know Zazzalil doesn't like Mills." But Chorn is looking at her, head tilted slightly, a twinkle in their eye. She focuses on her tupperware of untouched salad and fiddles with her fork. Her mouth is dry.

"Don't worry Tibs." Schwoopsie says finally, playfully swatting Jemilla's arm. The brunette just forces a mouthful of lettuce in her mouth, eyes still low. "J-Mills just can't help but get worked up whenever we talk about lil Zazzy."

"Enough, Schwoops." The red faced student finally says. She forces her tone to remain flat, conversational. "I don't want to talk about Eliza Pullen. She has the emotional age and self awareness of a seven year old. No matter how similar we might be." Here she directs her glare onto Tiblyn, who at least has the decency to frown. "She's a stuck up, self-centred arsehole, and I'll be quite happy to never hear her name again." She glances at Schwoops who has the good sense to avert her gaze.

"Jeez, sorry Jemilla. I was only joking."

"Yeah, well." She replies, shrugging. She's grateful when Tiblyn changes the subject dramatically, launching into a rant about how bullshit astronomical units are, which she can't follow but enjoys listening to nonetheless.

 

It's not until Friday morning, as she's contemplating Zazz's staring in the shower, that she realises her attempt to ignore the musician has backfired dramatically. In two days, Jemilla has gone from a dedicated five minutes daily of griping over the brunette, to a near constant internal monologue. The thought has her blushing; this was exactly the scenario she'd been trying to avoid with her five minutes rule! She's sure it's not healthy to dislike someone this much. Thankfully, after their morning tutorial, she doesn't have to see Eliza for the rest of the day and the space is just what she needs to set her brain straight. Jemilla's grateful she's going out tonight, she could use a few hours to let her hair down.


	3. It's just a drink, right?

Jemilla regrets missing out on predrinks when she sees her little tribe shouting at each other over the dj. She realises, as she gets closer, that what she assumed was a hat or bag or something clutched in Ducker's hand was actually a...stuffed duck?  
  
"Hey gang!" She greets, pulling out the stool next to the tall recluse. "How's everyone feeling?" Before anyone can answer her, the plush toy is thrust towards her.  
  
"I made a friend!" Ducker exclaims with a lopsided grin. "He was in the shop window down the road, and he looked so sad, but he's not sad anymore!" Jemilla takes the duck with a fond smile.  
  
"He's lovely, Ducky. What's his name?" She can see him fight the laugh bubbling in his throat.  
  
"He's called Beak-n-call!" Then he dissolves into a pile of giggles. Jemilla rolls her eyes, but she barely succeeds in holding her own laughter back.  
  
"Please tell me you picked him up after school? Not, like, ten minutes ago on your way over here?" Schwoopsie laughs loudly, slamming a pint glass of something...blue in front of her, and interrupts Ducker's reply.  
  
"Are you kidding? You should have seen him walk into this charity shop, and beg the guy at the till to let him have the duck, how the duck was going to rule a small army of other ducks, and that he'd be the first to lay in, what was it? Penance at the duck's feet. Poor man didn't know how to react!" She high fives Ducker, who appears to be swaying slightly, then taps lightly on the side of the pint glass. "This one's on me. Drink up, J-Mills, you got a lotta catching up to do!" The blonde saunters back towards the bar just as the lights begin to dim.

"Hey guys, how we doing tonight?" A male voice calls over the din of the lounge. A couple of tables woop in response - Jemilla's tribe included. "Yeah, that's what I like to hear! We've got a special line up for you tonight, but first I'd like you to give a warm welcome to first time performers: The Grunts!" The stage lights up to reveal a three or four guys, Jemilla suspects Uni students, with a couple of guitars between them. Privately, she thinks a name like the Grunts suits them perfectly: all of them look like they'd blow over in a strong wind. Still, they sound pretty good. She sips her...whatever Schwoopsie bought her. Despite her eccentricities, her friend's right about that - she's far too sober for this.

"Hey, Jemilla!" Tiblyn calls from further down their table. "C'mere a sec!" The brunette rolls her eyes, but shuffles around Ducker and Emberly to where Tibs leans against Chorn in the booth.

"Hey Tibs, Chorn. How are you doing?"

"I dunno what Schwoopsie brought to Ducker's, but that stuff was s t r o n g!" Tibs giggles, her eyes closed against Chorn's shoulder. "C'mon, sit down!" Jemilla joins them on the sofa. "Wait, no, you forgot your drink." Before Jemilla could even try to stand back up, she flaps her arm until she has Ducker's attention. "Ducky, pass us J's drink!" He grins at them, then slides the pint across the wood to Tibs' waiting hand. A silvery trail spread over the tabletop. Ducker shrugs and laughs, returning to Emberly. Tiblyn leans forward until her mouth is almost pressed against Jemilla's ear.

"Y'know, I saw Zazzalil earlier." Jemilla groans, and chugs a good couple gulps of her drink.

"No, Tiblyn! No Zazzalil talk tonight, I just wanna drink and dance and drink." Tiblyn giggles, and falls back against her partner.

"You said drink twice!"

"Well, that's how important it is to me." They make it through a second of silence. "So...how was Eliza?" Tiblyn's triumphant grin has her flushing, though she's sure it'll remain unnoticed in the dark room.

"I dunno, she was quiet."

"Quiet? Zazz? That girl could talk the ear off Sebastian!" Another pause. "Where did you run into her?" TIblyn shrugs, eyes once again closed.

"I don't know, J! You're awfully interested though, for a nemesis or rival or whatever you two are to each other."

"Interested? I'm not interested. I just- she just-" Jemilla's tongue feels too big for her mouth; she can't think of the words to finish the sentence. Alcohol, she reminds herself. She either needs less of it, or more.

"Could have fooled me." Tiblyn replies easily. "Actually I lie. You did fool me. Schwoops is a lot sharper than I am though." Jemilla scowls for a second, then sighs when it's clear it has no affect. She gulps down her remaining half pint in a couple of seconds.

"I am not nearly drunk enough for where this conversation is headed."

"You're crushing on Zazzalil!" She exclaims finally, face split with a wide smile. Jemilla jumps at the volume.

"Jeez, Tibs, not so fucking loud!"

"Oh, relax. No one will hear anything over these guys' wailing. Besides, we all pretty much know already." Oh. Oh dear.

"Right. A: I never confirmed anything. And B: even if I did happen to have some kind of crush on that imbicile, it's not like I'd want to go declaring it to swarms of strangers at a venue she's probably been in before."

"...but you haven't denied anything either." Tiblyn points out, smirking. Jemilla hesitates, but really she's been dying to talk to someone about Zazz anyway, and her head's just plesantly woozy enough to make it seem like a good idea.

"...yeah. Okay, yeah. I like Zazz. I've liked her for fucking forever and it sucks that we're constantly fighting. How the hell do you go from nonstop bickering to saying 'Hey, hi I've been in love with you for like half my life now, do you wanna go out sometime?" Jemilla stops suddenly, and raises her gaze from the glass in front of her. The four at the table with them are staring at her like she's grown a second head. Her stomach roils, her heart pounds. Jemilla freezes.

"...what was that?" Tiblyn asks eventually. Jemilla's brain has stopped working. That's the only real excuse she has for why she doesn't just get up and leave.

"What? Like you guys have never carried a crush around with you for years."

"Well, yeah." Emberly nods slowly and speaks delibrately. Like she's afraid Jemilla will just get up and leave. "But we don't usually have a feud so legendary our teachers turn it into running gags."

"Come on, it's not that-"

"One of the drama teachers okay'd an assessed performance of that time you chewed her out for putting 'that stupid guitar' before your history project. Their topic was animosity." Jemilla's almost glad she can't possibly feel anymore embarrassed.

"Oh shit, yeah. I forgot that." In the silence that follows she feels unconfortably like she's at an interview, or perhaps a kid being chastised by Molag again.

"So...you're actually, properly in love with her?" Jemilla nods, gaze on the table in front of her. She opens her mouth to elaborate, but the voice over man returns announcing the final song of the Grunts' set.

"Remember, the albums of all those performers tonight with one will be available on our website for the next week. Now introducing a young lady who comes back every couple of weeks, a real crowd pleaser this one." Jemilla feels it a second before he makes the announcement, she instinctively knows she's going to be there. Her stomach drops when she looks up to the stage and sees the short guitarist wearing a soft smile that Jemilla has never seen before. "Please welcome a house favourite, Zazzalil!"

 

She can feel four pairs of eyes on her, but refuses to acknowledge this particular twist.

 


	4. Birds of a Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that Jemilla is exactly as useless and gay as we all suspected she was.

"Hi gang, it's been a while, huh." Zazz says calmly into the mike. She's greeted with whoops and claps from the audience. Jemilla stays quiet. She can feel the eyes of her friends watching her, but she keeps her gaze on the brunette and prays she's hidden away in their corner. "I've got something new for you tonight. It's a little different, and still mostly a work in progress. Hope you like it." More cheering from the audience - Zazzalil was more popular than Jemilla had given her credit for.  
  
She's heard Zazzalil sing before. Music showcases, musicals, even darting around hallways and corridors she'd be singing something under her breath. But the thing about being a musician in school is, often, they place constraints over the subject matter that can be performed. In such a public setting, Jemilla half expects Zazz to have similar reservations. When the musician opens her mouth, Jemilla realizes that she's never heard Zazzalil sing properly.   
  
She was...real. Raw, honest, almost uncontrolled. Jemilla wouldn't pretend to understand music, but she could certainly appreciate it. And Eliza opening herself up in any way was something that warmed her heart. If that makes her a walking stereotype then so be it. The song itself is acoustic, played on Zazz's battered old guitar that she never went anywhere without, and sounds...sad. Sadder than she'd ever expect from the Queen of lazy apathy. Jemilla tries to focus onto the lyrics; the best chance she has to actually understand Eliza is right now and she'll be damned if she squanders it. The alcohol buzzes at the back of her mind, and the words slip from her grasp as soon as she hears them. The best she can do is some kind of nostalgia. She almost snorts at that realization. Right. Just her luck that, on top of Zazz being here, and her feelings being forced into the open, Eliza's song would strike a chord with her. Could she possibly become more of a stereotype?  
  
Jemilla refuses to look anywhere other than at the stage while Zazzalil is playing - every couple of seconds, one of them will glance over at her, and her blush would begin anew. She takes a minute during a break in the set to nip to the bar and get another pint of whatever blue stuff she was drinking earlier since, aside from the impending humiliation she's sure she'll have to deal with, she really is just here to get drunk and have fun. Schwoopsie has returned to their table when she gets back. She's sat where Jemilla was, an arm slung over the back of the booth.

"Hey Milla, how you feeling?"

"Where have you been?" She asks, sliding in next to the blonde. She ends up squashed between Schwoops and Ducker's long legs but she doesn't mind too much. Ducker is engrossed in conversation with Emberly again anyway.

"Oh, you know. Here and there. What do you think of Zazz?" There's a smile on Schwoops' lips, an all too familiar glint in her eyes. Jemilla frowns.

"You knew she'd be here, didn't you?" Blue eyes widen for a moment, then the blonde shrugs playfully.

"So what if I did? We were coming here anyway." Jemilla catches Tiblyn's eye for a moment before the latter looks away guiltily.

"A little warning might have been nice!" She takes a sip of her drink, but Schwoops doesn't respond so she continues. "I just mean - look, it was a bit of a shock, is all. To see her. On stage. Singing."

"Speaking of - she's gonna start her second half, better not keep her waiting!" Schwoopsie nods towards the stage with a grin where, to Jemilla's horror, Eliza meets her gaze with wide eyes and a half smile. She prays the room is dark enough to hide her flush - she really needs to invest in some decent foundation at this rate.

"Hope you don't mind me switching it up for my second half - I kind of feel like doing some covers at the moment." She lets out a chuckle at the whoops that follow. "Thanks guys! Anyway, I noticed some familiar faces in the crowd tonight, so to the gang from Riverbank, this one's for you." Schwoopsie laughs loudly, and pokes her in the arm. Zazzalil throws a wink in Jemilla's direction before she starts playing.  
  
Jemilla didn't expect to recognise anything Eliza played for pleasure - she was sure their musical tastes differed greatly. So when Zazz starts singing, Jemilla can't hold back her grin.   
  
"You hit me once, I hit you back  
You gave a kick, I gave a slap  
You smashed a plate over my head  
Then I set fire to our bed"  
  
She almost laughs: the very song that had played on repeat for several months after one particular incident in PE involving a stone wall and some broken teeth. And Zazz had dedicated it to them? She shakes her head slightly in an attempt to lift the fuzz over her brain - this particular song was almost certainly picked with her in mind. Maybe that's how she knows it too. Zazz enjoys playing this particular song, as far as she can see; dancing around a little bit more than she did in the first half of her set. She's a little bit more relaxed too, and wears her trademark cocky smile throughout. Jemilla hates it, in that she loves it and doesn't really want to let how she feels for Eliza ruin her enjoyment for the performance.   
  
The song ends, and she rolls straight into "Why am I like this" and honestly, how has she never had a conversation with Zazz about music because she's been in love with Orla Gartland for months now. Oh yeah, because she's never actually had a civil conversation with Eliza in all of seven years of schooling. Every so often brown eyes meet her own, the twinkle there doing nothing to sooth Jemilla's nerves. Should she leave before the set ends? Will Zazz come over and talk to them? Should she go see Zazzalil first, away from her trouble making friends? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.   
  
Zazzalil's set finishes with "Hey There Delilah", which sounds beautiful on an acoustic guitar, and her picking is so gentle; Jemilla might actually burst from the softness in Zazz's gaze when she surveys the crowd. She bows to the cheering of the crowd, turns to leave, then quickly turns back to the mike.

"Oh, one more thing. I have a full album on the pub website like usual, but I've also got a couple of physical copies with me now if anyone wants to swing by the prep room to nab one. Discounted for my favourite venue, of course!" The lights brighten for the few minutes of average music while the next act sets up.

"If you don't go behind that stage and fucking talk to her, I swear to god I'll tell her myself." Schwoopsie whispers, before Jemilla can say or do anything. "J, listen to me. You're drunk. She's probably drunk or high or something anyway. If there's ever going to be a good time to just have a normal fucking conversation with her, now would be it." Jemilla rolls her eyes and huffs, like she wasn't already planning to do exactly that. She drains the last of her drink, and gets up swaying.

"Bathroom." She mutters to the others, pretending they don't already know where she's really going. Right. Time to talk to Little Miss Music.


	5. Playing with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemilla being extra, Zazz being a lil shit. You know. The usual.

Jemilla approaches the door, where three or four people wait, and leans against the wall. She can hear the low hum of conversation in the pub behind her, and the fragments of conversation of the people she stands behind. One voice she cannot here, however, is the boisterous tones of Eliza herself. Is she even going to be here? What if she's already left, as reluctant to see her as Jemilla was to see the musician? Fuck, this was a mistake, Zaz wouldn't want to see her, Jemilla's just going to make a fool of herself and whatever the hell their peculiar relationship is would only get worse on Monday. She sighs deeply, then turns to leave the hallway.  
  
And immediately bumps into Zazzalil.  
  
"Whoa, hey! Watch it - wait. Jemilla?" Brown eyes widen, and she swears that the shorter girl's cheeks pinken. "I didn't expect you to come tonight." Zaz breaks eye contact. Jemilla takes the opportunity to study her. Guitar case strapped to her back, she looked less relaxed than she had on stage.

"I'm not gonna lie, I didn't know you'd be performing. I don't come here often." Zazz's smile shrank slightly, but the woman nodded.  
"I can tell. I've been playing here for a few months now and I've never seen you before. I guess I'll see you around then." Jemilla's arm shoots out for her shoulder before she can dart around her.

"Wait." Zazz stops and turns back, though she doesn't speak. "Can we talk?" 

"You've been drinking." Zazzalil says, as though that's enough of a reason to stop her. Really, Zazz might be right about that, but there are worse drunken mistakes she could make than having a conversation with Eliza Pullen.

"I don't have the guts to try otherwise." Jemilla replies seriously. It's probably more honest than she would usually be with Zazzalil, but nothing about this situation is normal. Zazzalil sighs, but she's smiling. 

"Alright, give me ten minutes to chat to some people and change." Jemilla nods, and shoots back a half smile of her own.

"I'll wait here."

"...you know that's the line to the toilets, right?" Jemilla jolts away from the wall, and looks to her left. Sure enough, the people she'd assumed were there to talk to any number of the night's musicians were already gone. 

"Shit. No, I didn't." Zazzalil laughs, then nods her head back towards the pub. 

"Go wait at the bar. I'll find you when I'm ready."

 

  
Should she be drinking? She sips from her lemonade - coke is too caffeinated for her already bubbling anxiety, and it feels like more alcohol when Zazz had already called her out on drinking is a bad idea. But should she? Is Zazz going to expect her to drink more? Is Zazz going to drink? What if Zazz does end up drinking, and they drink together, and then they- Jemilla shakes her head, all but feels her brain rattling in her skull. Too far, Milla. Too far. No more alcohol for the horny cavewoman brain. Why did she think this would be a good idea? She's going to sit down with Eliza, and one of two things is going to happen. She'll forget how to have a normal human interaction with a normal human person, and they'll end up fighting again. Or they'll get along far better than she can ever manage sober, and then she'll do something stupid, or gay, or both, and Zazz will laugh or leave, or both. But she'd seemed almost happy to see her an hour ago. She jumps as a hand finds her shoulder. 

"What you doing over here?" Tiblyn calls over the din of the pub. "We were heading off after this round, but I'll tell them you're getting another drink. How'd it go with Zazz?" 

"I- she's gonna finish up here, then we're actually going to have a conversation. That won't devolve into an argument. Hopefully." Tiblyn is smiling, looking over her shoulder. Jemilla's head whips around at the familiar voice.

"I'd like to think we can talk without one or other of us ending up in a cast." Eliza says with a grin. She changed out of the black shirt she'd worn earlier, and has on a standard plaid button up with some kind of band tee underneath. It's what she wears to sixth form daily, but in the dark light of the bar, it looks less laid back and more...showy. Jemilla's mouth turns dry. 

"Sorry Tibs." She turns to her friend with an apologetic shrug. "I'll find out where you are when we're done, kay?" 

"Or let me know you get home safe. Either one works." Tibs pats her shoulder and rejoins their tribe. Jemilla turns back to Zazzalil. Who watches her, smirking. 

"Is this gonna be, like, a proper deep heart to heart?" Jemilla flushes. "Because I'll be honest. It's a Friday night and I want to cut loose as much as...well, I guess as much as you do." 

"It doesn't have to be. I just- " She sighs, and sips again from her glass. So many words on the tip of her tongue and none of them quite right. This whole thing really was a mistake. "It feels almost like a waste. I've known you now for what, seven years? And all we've ever really done is bicker, and argue, and occasionally fight. Did you know that, based on what you played tonight, we like basically the same music? Because I didn't!" Zazzalil's smirk fades into a softer, almost shy smile. 

"What, you want to be bffs?" But there's no bite to the words like there might have been a day ago. Jemilla shrugs. 

"I just want to know you." She sounds sad, she knows she sounds sad, and she tries to shrug it off. "At least then I'll know that our legendary animosity isn't going to waste." Zazzalil snorts. Jemilla looks back to the musician, heart hopeful. 

"Holy shit, I didn't know you were funny!" Jemilla rolls her eyes.

"That's exactly my point." Zazzalil watches her for a moment, spark in her eyes. 

"Alright, Milla." She says with her trademark smirk. "I'll give you a go."

"Psssh, at least buy me a drink first." She laughs, then she freezes. She was too flirty, that was too flirty, this whole conversation was for nothing and she should just leave now to find her tribe. But then Zazzalil leans over the bar, and flags down one of the staff. 

"I saw you with a deep blue, right?" Jemilla doesn't get the chance to answer. "Can I get two, please?" Zazzalil's smirking again, and Jemilla can't be certain she isn't having a heart attack. What is happening right now? 

"So, Jemilla. Would you like to play a game?" Zazzalil turns to her with a grin. She arches an eyebrow.

"What kind of game?"

"Have you played two truths and a lie?" She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"I haven't, but I imagine its as simple as the title suggests?" 

"Why make complicated what is already perfect?" 

"Good philosophy, that." Zazzalil grins.

"Thanks. So, you want to play?" Jemilla shrugs, and downs the last of her lemonade. 

"Sure, I'm game." 

"Sweet! So, it's a drink for every incorrect answer. That is, if you're not already under the table." 

"Excuse you, I'm perfectly fine! This is nothing!" She wiggles her glass around, and when some sloshes over the edge of the glass, she ignores Zazzalil's pointed laugh. "Are we staying here? It's a little noisy." 

"Nah, there's a booth in the corner." They retreat to the empty table. "Right, let's go. You first." Jemilla thinks for a moment. Ideally, she'll come up with three perfectly ambiguous scenarios, and Zazz will have to guess. 

"I've never failed a test, I have three exotic pets and I can play the bongos." Zazzalil doesn't hesitate.

"You've definitely failed a test - I spent all of one of our science lessons fucking around with your bunsen burner, and you couldn't get anything done. You had to redo it at lunch time."

"Shit, yeah! I completely forgot about that!" She laughs at the memory. "Hidgens knew it was your fault, you know? He told me so that lunch time, but because it was 'official coursework", there was nothing he could do." Zazz joins in her laughing. 

"I only fucked with you because you wouldn't let us do anything fun in Drama the hour before. You made us all do that scene from blood brothers, the sad one, because we'd just studied it in English." 

"It was a fucking awesome musical, alright! Not my fault you just wanted to sing the Sound of Music every other week." It's so easy for them to slip back into their bickering. But this feels different to Jemilla - there's nothing to prove here, no point to make, no reason to try and make Eliza see that she's doing something wrong, or wasting her potential. This is...fun. "Anyway," She continues. "It's my drink, and your turn." She takes a long, slow sip of the Deep Blue.

"I'm allergic to most nuts, I set my dad's basement on fire when I was eleven, and I've trained in ballet." 

"Ooh, damn Zazz, that's tough." The musician grins.

"How well do you know me, Mills? What you thinking?" 

"I know enough to believe that arson isn't off the table, accidental or otherwise." Eliza pokes her tongue out at Jemilla and laughs. "And because I really really want to believe you're a ballerina, I'm going to have to pick the nut allergy." 

"Fuck, yes! I'm only allergic to peanuts." Jemilla waits only half a second before jumping on that particular nugget of information.

"You're a goddamn ballerina! How has this never come up?" Jemilla's shouting, she should be quieter, but she can't get the image of Zazz in a tutu prancing around on a stage out of her head.

"It's not something I want bandied about! I have a reputation to maintain." She leans back, but she's still smiling. "My dad pretty much forced me into lessons when I was a kid, I quit a couple years ago." 

"Right. Guess this, Zazzalil." Jemilla says with a grin. And on they play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd planned on the next chapter being the end of this fic, but it's taken a different direction than I'd planned. Hope you guys can bear with me just a little longer!


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